CHAPTER SEVEN
Harley plucked a few bills from her wallet and passed them to the elderly Apache woman seated beneath an umbrella. The woman’s slight smile set in motion a series of wrinkles, rippling back to her ears like waves.
“My sister used to love these,” Harley explained to Callaway as she picked up the pair of beaded earrings. Bands of turquoise alternated with white, red, and black, like sunset and coastal waters. “She was always interested in the history of the land, especially before it was settled.”
Smiling at the Apache woman, she turned and studied the rows of stalls around her. The Tejada farmers market met a few times a year and brought in sellers from as far as Austin, Texas. Many skilled artisans attended, displaying sculptures made of basswood and butternut, hand-painte
